


Whatever Light May Shine

by inalasahl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post Episode: s05e22 Swan Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-19
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inalasahl/pseuds/inalasahl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't seem right that Dean's the one left standing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Light May Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2010 Dean/Castiel Mini-Bang.](http://community.livejournal.com/deancasbigbang/tag/-2010%20masterlists) Artwork by [acquiescence_](http://users.livejournal.com/acquiescence_/127345.html).
> 
> My deepest love and gratitude to sparky77 for her generous beta reading.

> Vow, whatever light may shine,   
> No man on your face shall see   
>  Any grief for change on mine.  
> — from "The Lady's Yes" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

[   
](http://users.livejournal.com/acquiescence_/127345.html)

  


* * *

Heading west on Route 136 through Missouri offered Dean a perfect view of the setting sun ahead of him, blinding without sunglasses, and the full moon rising in his rearview mirror. The sky was clear, good for driving. Dean decided he would just push on through to Colorado. He didn't really like sleeping at night, and he enjoyed driving through the flat plains where one could see anything approaching for miles. Dean dialed Bobby's home phone, knowing there was a good chance he was out on a hunt. Luck was with him, and he breathed a sigh of relief when voice mail picked up. "Hey, Bobby," Dean said into the phone. "Sorry I missed you. I'm not at Lisa's anymore, uh, long story. Thought you might have a hunt for me. I'm heading west." Dean hung up the phone.

_Dean pulled his jacket on and began patting himself, checking his hiding places. "I left some new IDs in your dresser drawer." He held up a hand. "I know you don't want them, but just in case. Two years, Lisa, _two,_ my Dad was gone when ghouls came after a friend of his and her kid." He'd never told her about Adam. Now wasn't the time for explanations. Dean picked up his duffel. Everything he owned still fit inside it. "You should move, pretend you never heard my name."_

_"This is our home, Dean, and we're not going to be run out of it." Brave words, but he could see the way her hand toyed with the anti-possession charm around her neck, the way she kept placing herself between him and Ben. "Don't forget to salt this door after I leave," he said, and stepped out into the starless night._

He had tried to keep his promise to Sam, but maybe they both should have known it wouldn't work out. It was never going to be safe to be around a Winchester man. It had been stupid to try it. He and Lisa hadn't loved each other, but it been fun, nice, having the time to get to know someone, to see if there were feelings there. Sam had wanted it, normal, for so long and so hard, that he'd never been able to believe that Dean didn't. But Dean truly loved hunting. Just not like this with an empty passenger seat, and no one to care what music he put in. Safer this way, though. Sam wouldn't want anyone else hurt either. So many good people had died in the last few years, it didn't seem right that Dean was the one left behind.

Dean knew he could go to Bobby's, but he'd never be able to stay there. He had never been like Sam and his dad. Dean never dreamed of an end to it all: one final hunt, that would earn them revenge or peace or understanding. He knew even better now. Dean reached inside his jacket with his left hand, and ran his fingers over the metal, counting one, two, three, reassuring himself they were still there. Only three of them now Death had taken his back, but Dean couldn't lay the others down. He'd need them one of these days. He turned his headlights on and watched the sun sink away from him, even as the car raced toward it.

* * *

"You're not at Lisa's," Castiel said, appearing in the passenger seat.

Dean jerked, but the road ahead was empty, and he never even wobbled out of his lane. "Cas!" Dean cut his eyes sideways and peered at the angel. Castiel looked just as he had the last time Dean had seen him, still in Jimmy and still wearing the same clothes. Still as inappropriately attractive as ever. Castiel stared intently back at Dean. It seemed unfair Dean couldn't at least fall back on complaining Cas hadn't knocked before entering. "I thought you were kicking ass upstairs," Dean said.

Castiel turned his head from Dean and looked through the windshield. Dean couldn't tell if it was shame or annoyance or just a desire to stare at the headlight-illuminated roadway. "Raphael determined I could be more useful here."

"He kicked you out?" Dean's face felt tight. "He can't do that."

Castiel ignored the comment. "You're not at Lisa's," he said again.

"How'd you find me? Should I expect more visitors?"

"Few of my brothers and sisters have become intimate enough with humanity to learn about cellular signals." He reached over and turned down the volume, over Dean's protests. "Why aren't you at Lisa's?"

Dean took a deep breath. Why did Castiel have to keep pushing him? "It didn't work out. What do you need, Cas?"

There was a long pause that Dean ignored, pointedly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. "The initial disarray in heaven upset many of my brethren. They left their posts, and Raphael has asked me to find them," Castiel said eventually.

Dean scoffed. "You're Boba Fett now? Dragging all the naughty angels back to your cult for reprogramming?" Dean left one hand on the wheel and with the other reached for the tape box at Cas's feet.

"Not all of my brothers and sisters have ripped out their graces and are attempting to live as humans." His voice practically growled the last words directly into Dean's ear. _"Or have you forgotten the havoc angels can wreak on this planet?"_

Dean clenched his jaw and fought back a shiver. "You think I could forget?"

Castiel looked down at his lap, and this time he sounded almost regretful. "I didn't come to fight with you, Dean."

"Why did you come?"

"I was hoping you would help me." Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel make an aborted movement, as if the angel had been planning to touch him, but changed his mind. "In addition to the rogue angels, there are still many demons Lucifer released from hell around. It's not my intention to detain any angel who is not sowing chaos." He leaned toward Dean. The weight of his gaze was uncomfortably intense, and it gave Dean very, very bad ideas. "We have been an effective team in the past."

Dean tried to shake off the mental feeling of being pinned by the gaze of a predator. He smirked. "You saying you like having me around?"

"It was difficult for me when I was cut off from the host and you — I count you among my friends. But if my presence is an inconvenience, I can —"

Because Dean was so busy. Dean cut him off with a quick shoulder squeeze. He sighed. It was going to take forever to loosen the guy up again. "Stay, Cas. Demons and rogue angels? _I_ could use the help."

"Thank you." Even in the night-darkened car Castiel's eyes looked very blue. "I have missed your company," he said.

Dean just nodded, and put Houses of the Holy in.

Strangely, Castiel didn't ask Dean where he was driving to, so Dean didn't bother to tell him. They drove through the night in companionable silence, windows rolled down to let in a breeze, the music just loud enough, as the hours passed and the moon moved slowly from the southeast to the southwest, disappearing high overhead for a time.

In Holyoke, Colorado, Castiel vanished to seek revelation. Dean stopped for gas in Fort Collins and decided to grab something to eat from the attached mart. The place was empty and no one came out when Dean called. He checked the mirror overhead cautiously before moving toward the door to the backroom. As he got closer, he heard a choked-off cry and a load groan, which sent him barreling into the next room right into the midst of a startled couple going at it against the wall. Maybe he didn't need to buy anything after all.

He was surprised when his phone rang as he was coming out. "What happened to the tracking thing?" he asked once Castiel appeared at his side.

"I have to follow your signal from somewhere."

Dean blinked. "You've been sitting on Bobby's phone?"

"You left Lisa's," Castiel replied, as if that was an explanation. "We need to stop in this city."

"Angels or demons?" Dean asked as they got back on the road and started looking for a motel.

"Angel," Castiel said.

When they got to the motel, there was somebody at the desk, and if he hadn't gasped and jerked right when he was handing Dean the key, Dean might never have noticed that he was on the receiving end of a blowjob right at that moment. It was good he hadn't insisted that Cas come in with him and learn how to rent a motel room. Still. Once was a funny story, twice, especially in one day, was a clue.

He went back outside to get his bags and noticed two kids of 10 or 12 sitting on the trunk of a car, holding hands and swinging their legs in unison, but pointedly not looking at each other. Dean wondered if they'd just kissed or were just about to.

Castiel was already standing in the dark room when Dean used the key to let himself in. "You see the two kids outside?" Dean asked.

He peered out the window. "They seem young," Castiel said, sounding slightly unsure. Dean had no idea if Cas knew much about age-appropriate stages of human development.

"They're just kids playing around," Dean answered. "You know, puppy love?"

"I don't think so," Castiel replied, and Dean closed his eyes, because that's what he'd been afraid of. "They've been marked."

"It's a cupid, isn't it?"

"They're called cherubs, Dean, third-class."

"I guess we wait 'til evening, then hit the nearest BigGerson's," Dean said. "Too bad it's not free anymore." He threw his duffel down. "You can do your Yoda karma mah na mah na thing—"

"Zoda kama mahrana."

"—we gank this sucker, and get back on the road." Dean turned a lamp on, throwing shadows across the room, and began laying down salt lines.

"A few hours ago you didn't even wish me to take anyone back."

Dean turned from the door. Cas seemed to have forgotten whatever he'd learned about personal space. "Yeah, well, I don't like angels who mess with people. I don't like destiny, and I don't like—" A faint static shock crackled against Dean's fingertips as he brushed past Castiel.

"There may be a purpose. We should talk to the cherub first."

"Are you staying?" Dean asked. "Until tonight?"

"Would you like me to?"

Cas never gave anything up, Dean thought, his face was always so hard to read. He wondered what his own face showed. "Whatever," he said. Castiel was still standing in the middle of the room when Dean turned out the light.

* * *

The cupid — cherub — over-friendly naked angel turned out to be more stupid about humanity than deliberately malicious. Love was wonderful, blah, blah, blah. Now that the rules had relaxed (and Dean was more than a little surprised by how much Castiel bristled at that, but thought he'd save the question for later) why couldn't he just match everyone up while he was waiting? It made them so happy, after all. Damned blundering asses. It was a wonder humanity had survived so long with all their help.

He looked just the same as the angel they'd met on Valentine's Day, though apparently he wasn't the same one. Either he was borrowing the same meat suit or cherubs had some other method of flitting around. Dean and Castiel supervised as he went back around town fixing all the people he had marked, but were stymied when he refused to leave. What it turned out he was waiting for was a phlebotomist and a house painter who kept missing each other at the bus stop, despite the cupid's best efforts. "But I can never get the two of them in the same place at the same time, and I heard how helpful you were with the Famine situation ..."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Forget it, dude. We're not helping you put the whammy on anyone. Let's go, Cas." Dean started to walk away.

Only Cas wasn't coming. "Cherubs do vital work in many ways, Dean.

"I've had enough of angels and their vital work," Dean spat. He was so tired of heaven and hell and their tug-of-war b. s. and though he knew it wasn't fair, he resented that Castiel seemed to be firmly on Team God once again. "Free will still means something to me."

Castiel flinched. "A mark of union is merely inspiration, Dean. It does not abrogate one's choices in life."

"What about my parents? I'm supposed to be happy they got together just so Sammy could give his body over to Clarence's evil twin?"

A mild "I am glad of your existence," was Castiel's only reply, and Dean thumbed the back of his own neck, self-conciously.

"I can't help with this, Cas. It's not right."

* * *

In the end, Dean agreed not to drive off while Castiel assisted the other angel. Dean refused to help, but he couldn't direct Castiel. Cas seemed so eager it made Dean wonder what exactly he'd been doing up in heaven lately that he'd look forward to making sure two people ran into each other at a bus stop. Dean had kind of gotten the idea last time that Castiel found cherubs about as impressive as Lucifer had found Castiel. This wasn't exactly soldier work. Dean positioned his car strategically in a parking lot across the street from the bus stop to wait for the house painter to show up. Castiel would distract him long enough to miss his bus and have to take the next one. The cupid stood next to the Impala, lining up his shot or whatever mojo he used. Dean had thought about staying back at the motel, but a kind of low gnaw in his stomach warned him against it. He liked to think of himself as a natural born hunter, with a well-developed hunter's instinct, and that feeling was telling him not to let Castiel out of his sight.

The sunlight was bright, but still cool with morning. Dean watched people edging around Castiel as he stood stock straight in the middle of the stop, blocking the sidewalk. It was about the only time Dean had ever seen him standing around for what looked like a normal reason, but people still seemed to be staring at him. None of them looked to be aware of the naked man with the cheery grin standing next to Dean, though, not even the few who'd come over to admire his baby. Maybe cherubs could selectively make themselves visible, or maybe Cas was doing it.

Cas got it right. He tripped the house painter, and before the guy had a chance to pick himself up, the jerk of a bus driver pulled away. Dean watched as a woman came up to Cas. He started, surprised, as Castiel pulled a lighter from his trench coat and handed it to her. The two of them began chatting animatedly. He'd never seen Cas so talkative. What could Cas have to say that wouldn't have her backing away slowly? Next to Dean, the cherub made some wavy hand motions at the house painted that he guessed were the real-world equivalent of notching an arrow.

A guy in a lab coat came around the corner, and the cupid stepped forward, tripping over nothing, so far as Dean could tell. He saw Castiel jerk and whip around to look their way.

"Oops," the cupid said, with a laugh. "Let's try that again." He made some more wavy motions. "There we go! Well, I've got to move on to the next couple. Thank Cas for me?" The cupid snapped his fingers in front of Dean's face. "Dean? Dean?"

"What. Did. You. Do. You. Stupid. Incontinent. Freak?" Dean ground out.

The cupid followed Dean's eyes. Castiel was still staring their direction, looking a little — "No way!" The cupid squealed. "Don't look at me." He took a hasty step back and held his hands up in surrender as Dean moved toward him purposefully. "I can't even affect angels! His vessel may be a little confused, but just don't — you know — and it'll wear off eventually, I swear." With that the cupid was gone, on to his next assignment, probably still in deep conversation with himself.

Dean didn't know what had happened, but he was sure something had. He shoved his hands in his pocket and twirled the horsemen's rings around as he waited for Cas to come over to the Impala. Cas seemed to be taking forever, dazed or confused or just really, really interested in the tree planted in the parking strip. Dean resisted the urge to march across the street and tug him back to the car. "You okay, Cas?" Dean asked, when Castiel finally appeared at his side. His head was lifted toward the sun, catching the breeze.

Castiel's eyes focused on Dean's like a laser. "I'm fine. I'm glad the plan worked. That woman was very interesting to talk with." Dean broke eye contact, reaching through the window to pop the lock. There were some days Dean was even more annoyed Sam had hooked an iPod to the car when he could've chosen A/C if he were going to be messing around. Hopefully, the breeze would stay with them down the road. "Your eyes are very green in this light, Dean."

"Funny." Dean's laugh was a bit hollow. "Maybe you'd better head up to heaven and check-in. Sleep it off or something? I think that idiot got you."

"Angels don't have hearts, Dean."

"Jimmy does."

"Cherubs cannot mark us," Castiel asserted.

"Yeah. Okay, let's just go."

The car spun down the road, an act that Dean normally took joy in. He couldn't at the moment, because Cas wasn't sitting next to him the way he usually did. Instead, he sat staring at Dean like a hawk, his eyes tracking Dean's every minute movement, and twice now, he'd started to lean toward Dean with what looked to be every intention of touching. Dean couldn't drive like this, with Cas shifting toward him constantly, staring at him as if he were a particularly juicy burger. "Come on, man, you've got to fight this," Dean said. "This is just that stupid 'arrow.' Cas?" He risked a glance over. Cas was still staring at him, licking his lips now, and Dean shifted uncomfortably. The last thing he needed reminding of right now was that couple that had eaten each other to death. He was sure that Cas was going to get them into an accident, but the absolute last thing he wanted to do was stop at a motel room, where they had beds. "Cas, you listening? Come on."

"I am listening, Dean," Castiel replied. "I told you there's nothing wrong with me." Cas's voice contained the hint of a growl that usually meant he was getting frustrated. It was nearly as reliable an indicator as that look Sam sometimes got on his face.

"Then stop staring at me!" Dean felt like shit when Cas abruptly turned away. "Look, you gotta help me out here, okay? I can't deal with this right now. Maybe it's because you're in a vessel that it's affecting you. I don't know but, uh, I told you about looking at me like that. Might end up taking advantage."

Castiel's voice was cold and distant. "I battled the demons of hell for your soul. I walked this world before the first human ever drew breath. I can reduce an entire city to ashes in minutes, and you think I need you to protect my _virtue?"_

They didn't talk for several hours. Dean turned the music up and tried to ignore the feeling that Castiel, angel of the Lord, was pouting.

* * *

Only a couple of days passed before Dean found himself getting used to having Cas around again as they traveled slowly westward. He knew better, knew that at some point Cas would snap out of it. Dean feared what would happen then. He knew intimately what the consequences were when he let his emotions get the best of him. The memories still lurked in the corners of his mind and in his nightmares. If only Cas would stop his ridiculous angelic flirting, the staring and the standing too close and the hoarse rumble of his voice always right in Dean's ear.

Dean _wanted._ He wanted Castiel in a way he hadn't thought himself capable of. Better to send Cas off to reluctantly seek revelation, while Dean went to seek a glass to drink out of instead of a flask. Cas knew what Dean was doing those first two nights. Whether by luck or design, Cas hadn't been there either night Dean had come back stumbling and cock-eyed. Dean didn't think for one moment, however, that it was a secret from Cas, who was completely unsympathetic with Dean's headaches, yet kept leading Dean to the best bacon cheeseburgers and pie to be found along Route 40. Cas just wouldn't be there at night and Dean wouldn't see him again until his phone rang the next day somewhere between one town and the next. It was easier that way.

* * *

The solid thud of the barfly's fist connecting with Dean's jaw was quickly followed by a loud ringing sound that worried him more than the bleary eyesight that made it hard to aim a return punch. The barfly had a definite advantage. Dean was out of practice at trying to fight someone without killing him. The ringing wouldn't stop, and it made his head ache as he strove to stay on his feet. "Dean, Dean?" His pocket was calling for him now, and that was even weirder. He'd definitely had too much to drink. "Where are you?" The voice didn't really sound like the ones in his head that usually taunted him. "Can you hear me, Dean?" A punch to the gut this time, and Dean was vomiting up his last couple of beers. "Dean!" The guy he was fighting stayed back for the moment, maybe to protect his shoes, and Dean finally made sense of the voice.

"Cas?" he said in between retches, wondering how the speaker phone had turned on.

"Where are you, Dean?"

"Kinda busy right now, Cas."

The barfly kicked him in the ribs. Jeez, that hurt. "Bar a couple of blocks down from the motel," Dean gasped, grabbing the guy's foot before he could get another shot in.

Suddenly, Cas was there, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Excuse us," he said. Dean blinked and they were in the Impala, which was parked in the bar lot. He laid his head on the steering wheel, and took a few deep slow breaths to orient himself.

"You shouldn't've done that."

Castiel ignored him. "Should I drive?"

Dean fumbled for his keys, grateful for once that Sam wasn't around to lecture him about drinking and driving. It was only a couple of blocks anyway, and if he'd realized how quickly he'd find a bar, he would have walked it in the first place.

"You used to have more care for yourself," Castiel said, as Dean stumbled over to the bed and sat down. Dean wondered if Cas knew him at all.

Dean felt sore everywhere. He wanted to ask Cas to heal him; he wanted to feel the sting that matched his mood. "I only wanted a drink," he said. "The fight just happened." Dean held himself back from explaining. The guy had said something about music and then something about Detroit. He'd absolutely deserved Dean's first punch. Cas stood in front of him, his mouth a thin, tight line of disbelief anyway. Dean was so very done with people being disappointed in him. If it were going to happen any how — he stood up suddenly, and kissed Castiel.

It wasn't the worst kiss Dean had ever had, though Cas's mouth stayed shut. There was an undeniable tingle, and tender movement, before Cas gave a quick sharp inhalation and gently pushed him away. "Aren't you supposed to find me irresistible?" Dean asked.

"I've told you I can't be affected by cherubs." He lowered his forehead against Dean's. "I remember what it is to be drunk, Dean."

"'S what you want, isn't it?" He placed his hands on either side of Cas's head. The angel turned away, breaking eye contact.

"Stop." It was funny, maybe. Castiel could kill Dean with a snap of his fingers, but he acted as if Dean were the one hurting _him._

Dean let go and turned away. "You leaving?" Dean asked.

"I will stay," Castiel replied.

He stood in the middle of the room as Dean got in bed. "You can't stand there all night, Cas. It's creepy. Lay down or something."

"I don't need to sleep."

"Do it anyway. I can't sleep with you staring at me all night from the middle of the room." Dean tensed as Castiel moved toward Sam's bed. He bit back the suggestion they share and leave Sam's bed, just in case.

"I could wait in the car."

It felt weird to have a room with someone who wasn't Sam. Dean felt strangely guilty, as if he'd replaced him. He hadn't, of course. No matter how much humanity Castiel learned, he'd never be Sam, be Dean's little brother. It still felt weird to watch him lay down on the bed farthest from the door. "No, Cas. I'm not kicking you out."

Dean turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, in and out, in and out, until he fell asleep.

_"You won't be able to stop us all," the demon hissed. "We're going to find them."_

_Dean ignored it and kept reading. "—tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos," Dean said, watching the smoke poor out of Ben's mouth. His science partner hitched her breath, trying not to cry. Kid was probably going to have nightmares for the rest of her life. "Ben?"_

Dean woke with a start, a slight sheen in the darkness next to him telling him that Cas's eyes were open and watching him. "Why do you keep coming back?" Dean asked.

"Why would I stay away?" Cas replied.

* * *

Cas was still lying on the bed when the sun peeked through the curtains and woke Dean up. He was still in the same position he'd been in the night before when Dean had turned off the light. "You're still here," Dean said, stretching and moving into the bathroom to brush the awful taste from his mouth.

"Yes."

There was nothing urgent going on, Dean was sure. No angels or demons to take care of. If Cas had found a hunt, he would have dragged Dean immediately to it last night. So why was he still here? It wasn't as if he _needed_ Cas, Dean thought, checking the bruises on his stomach. If Sam could have seen them, he would have been scolding Dean for the next hour. Sam. "Maybe it's time you let Jimmy go home," Dean called from the bathroom.

There was a long silence from the other room, and then Cas popped in, right next to Dean. "Hey," he said, hastily pulling down his shirt as Cas's eyes flicked over his stomach. "I'm in here."

"We should get moving and find another target before Raphael decides he doesn't care what's happening to the people here and recalls me," Castiel said.

It was such an obvious attempt to change the subject, Dean paused in the act of picking up his comb. "Jimmy's never going to get his life back, is he?"

"I do not think so."

"But if we got rid of the demons, made things safe for him —"

"Dean." Castiel hesitated. Dean heard a slight shift of sound, as if Castiel had nearly taken wing. "I have been in this vessel for nearly two years," he said slowly, almost with regret. "I was made much stronger this last time I was brought back from oblivion."

"That vessel isn't yours, though. You're going to give it back, right?" Castiel said nothing, but continued to look at Dean blank-faced, as if waiting for something. "Cas?" Dean sucked in his breath. If even Cas wouldn't give up Jimmy, how was Dean ever going to get Sam back? The angels had ruined so many lives: Adam's, the Novaks', Donnie Finn —

Oh. Donnie Finnerman.

"You can't give it back, can you?" Dean swallowed. "You burned him out."

"Neither his consciousness nor his soul occupy this body any longer."

"Because his _brain_ is gone."

"It had become too damaged for his presence, yes. Dean, he is in heaven now. He has been rewarded, I promise you."

"I've been to heaven, remember? It ain't that great, Cas. You —" Dean choked. He backed away into the room and sat down heavily on the bed. "He's dead."

Dean remembered Lucifer's vessel, covered in sores, worn away. And yet. Sam's body had looked fine in that bleak future Zachariah had sent him to. Cas had looked fine. Dean had no reason to worry. But Castiel had been human then. What if Jimmy's body was wearing away even now? Dean looked at Castiel searchingly, carefully. His skin was still unmarked, the brilliant blue of his eyes as striking as ever. "How long do you have?" Dean asked.

"I am no archangel. This body shall contain me long enough to watch over Claire and her mother for the span of their lives, so that I may keep my commitment. I shall not take another."

"So, he's just gone," Dean said. "So much for his family. How long has it been for Sam there in hell? How can you angels do this to people?"

"Sam's situation is unique, except for Adam. To my knowledge, no one previously has been bodily assumed into hell." The expression on Castiel's face was almost human, knowing. "I had not thought about how my occupation of a vessel would appear to you."

Dean shook his head. "I know it's not the same as Sam, all right? I know you didn't coerce Jimmy or threaten him." Or at least Cas hadn't meant to, Dean thought, recalling that brief moment when Claire Novak had housed Castiel. But he kept the thought to himself. It would do no good to bring it up now. "I know it's different." He collected his things and took one last look around the room, waving Cas out the door.

"If I could do it again —"

"What, Cas? You'd let Sam and I keep trying to rustle up psychics? You and I know the boys upstairs would have just sent someone else, some other angel, some other vessel to talk to me. I get it. I don't have to like it."

"You're angry."

"Of course I'm angry!" The motel room door slammed behind him as he stalked out, and some people turned to look at him. He wanted to scream at them. They all just kept on living their lives, instead of dying painfully in a rain of blood, or at the hands of some zombies, while Sam was in hell forever, and not a one of them was grateful.

"You can't change the past," Castiel said.

"So what?" Dean swallowed. "I'm no angel, Cas. The view from here is a pretty rotten one." He threw his duffel in the trunk with a thud. "Let's just get out of this place. Next exit we'll pull off and find a 24-hour diner. I can have some pie for breakfast, and you can, uh, watch me eat," Oh, that sounded wrong, Dean thought. He babbled on as they got in the car. "Or have some yourself. I mean, yeah, you know, pie. Stop looking at me like that, dude."

Castiel turned his head and looked out the window. Dean had the disquieting feeling the angel was humoring him.

* * *

By unspoken agreement, they continued heading westward. There were a lot of miles in front of them, not that they had a deadline. But Dean had a vague destination in mind and he'd worry about the problem of what to do next, after. In Payson, Utah, Dean ran into demons who recognized him, and worse, knew he had the horsemen's rings. It had been stupid to keep them in his pocket, but Dean hadn't wanted to put down his only hope of one day seeing Sam again. Cas had gone off to report in or "seek revelation." By the time he caught up to Dean, there was a building full of demons, and one of them had actually managed to put the pestilence ring on.

Even with Dean helping out, Cas had his hands full. By the time they got to _the_ demon, Cas was sneezing. Not a good sign. Dean did'nt have time to think about it, though, going straight for the hand.

The knife bit down and caught on bone. Dean yanked hard, slicing until he found the notch at the base of the metacarpal and pushed into it, between the bones, separating the finger from the hand. He placed the ring in a pocket, and dropped the finger. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, and spun around to assess the situation. Cas was — Cas was _flickering,_ as if fighting something persistently, relentlessly attempting to drag him away. Dean moved toward him, knife out, as if he could stab the invisible threat away. "Cas, what's going on? Talk to me, Cas. Cas!"

Castiel's eyes were wide with panic, as he slowly focused on Dean. "Dean, I can't, I can't—" the floor trembled as Castiel spoke, and Dean's ears rung as if they'd been boxed.

He clapped his hands to his ears, only remembering at the last minute to change his grip on the knife so that he did not stab himself in the head. "Ow, Cas. What the hell?"

The floor continued to shake, and even through his fingers Dean could still hear most of what Castiel was saying. "Close your eyes, Dean. Close your eyes!"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they would go.

* * *

Long minutes passed before everything stopped shaking. Dean slowly took his hands away from his ears, and cautiously started to open his eyes. A hand clapped over them immediately. "Okay, Cas, I got it," Dean said. "Eyes closed." The hand moved slowly away. "That is you right?" The hand came back, tugging at one of his own. Dean relaxed, letting his hand be pulled up and laid against the side of a stubbled jaw, he felt the head move up and down in the shape of a nod. "You having trouble staying in your — staying together?" It didn't seem right anymore to call Cas's body a vessel. He felt the up and down movement again along his hand. Dean sucked in air hard through his nose and tried to relax. Cas obviously still had hands and a head, at least. They'd fix whatever the problem was, and he'd be fine. "We should go back to the motel," Dean said. He sighed, reluctantly knowing he had a choice between leaving his car behind or trusting his baby to an angel who had never driven before. One whose mojo was going crazy, no less. "You're going to have to drive, though." Some sound or a movement or sixth sense warned him suddenly to clamp down hard on Cas. "Don't you even think about leaving me," he snapped. Dean had an instant awful fear that if Cas tried to transport himself back to the motel, Dean would never see him again. The jaw under his hand stilled, and Dean relaxed his grip. He knew that if Cas wanted to fly off, there was little he could do about it, no matter how hard Dean's fingers dug into the side of Cas's face and neck. He felt the nod again, Cas agreeing to stay. Dean let out a breath he did not realize he was holding. "You got an arm?" he asked. A pause, and then Dean felt an elbow at his side and took it.

Cas led him to the car and over to the passenger door. He heard both locks pop at the same time and knew that meant Cas wasn't using the keys. He fumbled for the handle and pulled the door open. He leaned into the car, his fingers scraping against feathers with a static shock that had him jerking back. "What the hell?" He reached out tentatively again, and the shock was smaller this time, less painful as his knuckles brushed against the feathers. "Those are your wings, aren't they?" And right, Cas couldn't talk without bursting Dean's ear drums. Dean heard fluttering, but the feathers were still there when he reached out. "Got it," he sighed. "Small car, big wings. Just don't electrocute me or anything, all right?" The feathers shook again. Dean had a brief moment of surety that the motion was indignant and snorted.

In the end, Dean wondered if Cas cheated. It didn't seem to take them nearly as long as it should have to reach the motel, and he had that familiar constipated feeling he associated with travel by angel. Still, the car was with them, so Dean decided to count it as a win.

When they got inside the motel, Dean started trying to figure out logistics. "Okay, you've still got your hand at least, so one knock for 'no' and two knocks for 'yes.' Got that, Cas?" Two knocks and Dean felt a little easier. "You still have your tie?" Two knocks. "Good, hand it over, I can't keep this up forever." Dean tied it over his eyes. He relaxed even further, happy knowing he was no longer flirting with blindness, if he forgot. "You okay, Cas?" No response. Dean supposed it wasn't really a yes or no question. "Is there anything I can do to help?" One knock this time, loud and clear. "Is this something you know how to fix, or do we need to get help or research or something?" Four knocks. Dean didn't know if they meant yes and yes or how the hell do I answer that? "Do you know Morse code?" Dean asked. Two knocks, of course. Dean doubted there was any angel on the planet who didn't know every possible means of human communication and language. "Let's try that, but go slow and be brief, because I can't write it down." He could write it down; he just wouldn't be able to read it. "Are you okay?"

Instead of the expected knocking, he felt Castiel's hands on him, gentle and insistent, pulling at his jacket. Dean didn't get it until he felt a probing touch at his stomach, where it stung. "I don't suppose you've got enough control to use your healing powers?" A rhetorical question, really, but he felt Castiel's head against his neck, and a tiny regretful shake. "It doesn't feel too deep," Dean replied. He'd like to think he'd know if muscle had been shredded or his guts were spilling out. "Probably just need stitches." The elbow had come back to his side and Dean took it, letting Cas lead him over to the bed. He laid down carefully, trying to make his skin as flat a surface as possible. He heard Cas move away. Dean must have fallen asleep — he hoped anyway that he hadn't passed out from blood loss — he woke to the sting of peroxide bubbling in the cut, and only long habit turned his hoarse shout into a muffled hiss halfway through. He felt a gentle pat against his thigh. "I'm fine," Dean said. The peroxide was a good sign that Cas knew what he was doing, though Dean was pretty sure he'd never had to do first aid before. A good thing, because the idea of trying to direct someone through minor surgery while muzzy and blind was just a little more daunting than he could face at the moment. Dean jerked at the first push of the needle even though he'd been waiting for it. "My flask, Cas," he muttered. Two more jabs with the needle, and Cas left it there, resting in his skin, keeping it safe and marking his place. It felt weird, foreign, the way it always did to have a needle in him. Dean had to fight the urge to claw it out until Cas came back with the flask from his jacket to finish the stitch. Cas's stitches were small, crowded and close together. It hurt more. Dean was sure Cas was too unfamiliar with pain to know that. Even without sight, Dean was positive the careful, deliberate motions he could feel were perfect and regular. These were stitches that wouldn't pull free or pucker and scar. His only worry was whether Cas knew enough to take movement into consideration or if he'd be stuck lying in bed for the next several days.

Not allowed to move and unable to see, Dean became fiercely aware of everything else going on in the room. He felt random drips across his skin and wondered for a moment if Cas was crying, but then he realized it wasn't just him. He could hear drips falling other places inside the room. He reached out a hand toward the source of one of the drips, as much as he could without shifting the rest of his body, and got that static electric shock again. Cas jerked. Dean grunted as the needle slipped. He felt a soothing hand run lightly, apologetically over his stomach, near the wound. A trembling (though, he was pretty sure that Cas wasn't trembling, it was the closest his sense of touch could come to conveying what the flickering he saw earlier _felt_ like) hand tugged against his, pulling it away from the wing he'd been running it over. "You're wet," Dean said. Now that he was listening, he could hear rain, storming against the windows, pattering hard on the motel roof. It was too fierce to have stopped for that brief moment they went from car to room, and he wondered how Cas had kept him dry. They sure as hell didn't have an umbrella. He wasn't so dry now. Cas must have been shielding him from the rain when they came in with his wings. It occurred to Dean then, that the weight on the bed hadn't shifted. Dean was pretty certain Cas's arms weren't normally that long. He shivered a little as he wondered just how large Castiel could get. He took a deep breath and then a long swig from the flask, trying to concentrate on the feel of water in his palm and not the pain in his stomach. The hands moving along his wound stayed steady as they went along. Whether that was because Castiel had found a rhythm or was finally getting control over his self, Dean didn't know. The wound burned even more now, but the throb from the needle was a familiar one, and with the alcohol, Dean felt completely relaxed. In no time at all, he had fallen asleep once again.

When Dean awoke, he felt no prick, push or tug of the needle and decided it must be over. "Cas?"

"Dean," he heard and clapped his hand over his ears at the thrumming growl that made him throb, as if he were at a concert. He didn't hear the windows rattle, though, and there was no real pain this time. "I apologize," he heard, Cas's voice reduced to a mere whisper. "I have gotten myself under control, but there's still some blurring between this vessel and my true form."

It was good to hear his voice again even if it was only a whisper. Dean pulled at the tie. "Does that mean — can I?"

Dean had learned to associate the sub-vocal rumble he heard then with hesitation when Cas used it. "It is safe, but I am not completely contained. I don't wish you to be uncomfortable."

Dean took only a moment to ponder how much of a mutant Cas could look right now, before he decided he didn't care. He took off the tie and blinked to focus his eyes. The room was dark, lit only by the shine of a parking lot lantern through a crack in the curtains. Cas looked the same as always, but the black shadow of his wings — Dean took in a breath. It wasn't a shadow. Wings stretched from one end of the room to the other, immense and dark, the feathers a smokey smear rather than solid. "Cas," Dean breathed and reached for him.

He came toward the bed and sat down, his eyes fixed on Dean's face. Close enough that Dean saw the uncertainty in his eyes turn to humility as he took in Dean's awe. "Dean, don't — I'm not —"

But Dean wasn't listening. His hands reached out without thought, stroked the nearest wing he could grasp. He ignored the initial sharp prickle, and was fascinated as the sensation changed to a low electric buzz that seemed to wake his body up, a thousand times more pleasurable than it was painful.

Cas's sharp exhale was the only sound in the room.

Dean looked at him, watched as Cas's eyes turned dark and dilated with each stroke. "I —" Dean turned his head, with something like shame. "Sorry."

"Dean, you are always welcome to touch me."

"No, Cas, you don't know what you want. If it weren't for that arrow —"

Castiel sighed. "Dean. You took me to a prostitute once. How could you think that being intimate with you is worse than that?"

"You don't have a choice, Cas! I'm not going to take advantage —"

Castiel snorted. "I've told you before that it had no effect on me. In any case, no one has a choice over their feelings, Dean. No one. I never even had a choice before about how to act on mine. But you gave us that. I obey God now, because I choose to, not because it's the only thing I know. Let me choose this. Or would you take that away from me?"

He didn't want to take that away from Cas, no matter what would happen in the end, but still. "It's not just what I saw. You've been acting differently."

Castiel's lips lifted slightly at the corners. "That woman at the bus stop made advances toward me, so I asked her about you, what I should do."

Dean didn't know if he believed him, but he wanted this too much in that moment to care. He took a deep breath and held out his hand. "C'mere, Cas."

Castiel reached for him, and Dean pulled him close and pressed their lips together. Castiel's lips were rough and chapped, and so perfect. "Let me in, Cas," Dean said against his mouth. "Let me in." Castiel opened his mouth and Dean licked his way in to his own little piece of heaven. Moments after their tongues touched, Cas growled, no other word for it, and gripped Dean's head with implacable strength, taking over the kiss, attacking Dean's mouth with passion. Dean couldn't shift much, his stitches still hurt too much for that, and Cas resisted Dean's efforts to pull Dean on top of him, but Dean managed to get his arms up around him. Castiel was fierce in his passion, shaking and pushing and holding Dean so tightly, he half-wondered if he'd come away with even more handprints. "Cas, Cas," Dean gasped. "It's okay. I'm not stopping, all right? We have time."

Castiel practically heaved his mouth from Dean's, burying his face in the pillow next to Dean's head, laying them cheek-to-cheek. Dean was sure that if Cas had needed to breathe, he would have been taking huge gasps of air. Dean stroked his back reassuringly. "Let's get our clothes, okay?" he said as he unwrapped his arms and reached for the button of his own jeans. The pain that stuttered through him whenever he moved too much was frustrating. Dean didn't have many accomplishments that he could share with others, but the one thing he always prided himself on that other people could know about was this, the way he fucked, leaving everyone happy. Now, more than ever, he wanted to make this good, make _Cas_ feel good, and they couldn't even grind up against each other. "Can you?"

Cas finally drew himself up. "Tell me, Dean," he ordered. "Tell me what to do."

Dean waved a hand at his stomach. Cas bit his lip, and then laid his hand gently over the wound. The wound itself didn't change, Cas was apparently too weak for that, but the pain disappeared. "I think tomorrow I'll be able to heal you."

"It's fine," Dean said. "We need lube," and because Cas still wasn't that great with slang, "Uh, lubricant, some kind of slick to —" Castiel held out a box, and Dean didn't die of laughter when he saw that Cas has managed to come up with KY His and Hers. He also very carefully didn't ask why the hell Castiel was wasting his grace to procure lube when he couldn't even pull his wings in. "Great," he said, removing the rest of his clothes while Cas did the same. Dean had never had sex without a condom before, but somehow he didn't think they needed one. It wasn't like Cas could give Dean anything or vice versa. They also probably didn't have to worry about freaky angel pregnancies. Probably. He didn't know what Cas wanted, but Dean knew that Cas expected him to drive the bus on this thing. Dean was too weak to top, though. He'd just have to talk Cas through it. Dean spread his legs and lifted his hips enough to get a pillow under them as he knew he wasn't in any shape to hold his legs up on Castiel's shoulders. He tried to be careful of his stitches, though he couldn't feel them anymore. Dean slicked up two of Castiel's fingers, moving them between his own legs. "Here, Cas," he said. "Open me up." Dean stroked his hand over Cas's cock, getting him nice and slippery, enjoying the tiny sounds Cas made. "I'm ready," he said. Cas pushed in and began to move carefully over him and in him, repeating Dean's name over and over. Dean placed his hands on Cas's hips, guiding them into a rhythm. He kissed Castiel's neck, whispered endearments under his jaw, until with a sigh, Cas quivered and shook and came. Dean angled Cas's head toward him and kissed him hard, sweeping his tongue into his mouth as he placed Cas's hand on his cock, showing him how to move it until Dean, too, shuddered, coming over his hand.

And then Dean rested.

* * *

Dean didn't want to face the morning, but it came anyway. He could hear cars in the parking lot and people calling out to one another. Even with the curtains mostly shut, the light spilling into the room was sun golden and bright. Cas was pressed tight against him and uttered the first words to break the stillness inside the room. "You're not happy," he said into Dean's shoulder. Dean didn't disagree, but wished there was some way to tell Cas he didn't need to sound so apologetic. The problem was all Dean's. He felt a hand ghost over his hip and stomach. His wound disappeared.

"Thanks," he said, getting out of bed and putting his clothes on. He turned the light on, and finally swung around to look at Cas, who still lay on the bed, naked, and strangely vulnerable looking for a being that could ground Dean to dust with a snap of his fingers. "You all right?"

"I'm fine. Dean, I did not intend —"

"I'm fine, too, Cas," Dean bit out. He regretted it as soon as Cas pulled in on himself, hiding his hands away in the pockets of the trench coat he was suddenly wearing again, along with the rest of his clothes. "Look, it wasn't your fault, okay? You didn't do anything."

"Your defenses were down."

Dean couldn't stand to see Cas like this. His own pride could take the hit. "It wasn't like that, Cas. I promise. Just — we shouldn't do it again." Dean Winchester didn't do long-term, didn't do relationships. Castiel had another whole life elsewhere to go back to, and Dean refused to mess that up for him. Cas had brought Dean's duffel in the night before. Dean moved resolutely toward it, looking for his toothbrush and a change of underwear.

"You haven't asked me yet what happened yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?" Dean asked, glad for the change of subject.

"I lied to you. I was never assigned here. I was let come back. There were restrictions. Not just on me, on all of us who wanted to spend more time here." Castiel tilted his head. "That many demons at once, I ran into my limits." He put his arms around Dean and tried to pull him into a kiss.

It seemed to be more than Dean could do to push Cas away. He settled for pulling his mouth away, gripping the back of Castiel's neck, as he rested their foreheads together. "Cas, you don't need to do this."

Cas's voice was deeper than ever, a little out-of-control, letting too much of his real self bleed out. "This is needful, Dean. To me."

Dean's voice is wrecked. "You don't want — this, Cas, you don't." He clung to the cupid excuse, the only one he had left that he could voice.

"Fine," Castiel growled. "Let's say you're right, and a lower-order third-class _cherub_ has 'put the whammy on me.' It's not going away."

Dean pulled out of the embrace, and turned back to his bag. "I can't," he said.

"It's how your parents fell in love."

Dean picked up his jacket, and began digging through his pockets. "Look at how that turned out! Anyway, it's not the same, Cas, you — I —"

_"What?_ This didn't just happen, Dean. I've felt this way for awhile."

"You never showed it."

"Didn't I?"

"Cas." It was the only response he could make. Dean felt as if all his words were locked up, the only thing keeping him together, keeping him from shattering into a million pieces. "Oh, God."

"Dean," Castiel reproved.

"You see! I'm not, I'm not whatever it is you think, Cas, I'm not." He turned his head away, shutting out Castiel's intense gaze, which had always stripped him bare. "What am I supposed to do when you figure that out?"

"I am not disillusioned by your humanity, Dean. I gripped your soul tight, and remade every atom of your being, and you think there is anything about you that could ever be less than dear to me?" His hands were gentle as he laid them upon Dean's shoulders. "I will love you forever, Dean, but if the stars fall and the void collapses and Heaven is swept away and I choose to remove my heart from your keeping, I will stay with you, and I shall not regret. I am an angel, Dean, and above all we are faithful." His smile was curiously human. "Though occasionally our faith can be repurposed. We are not hammers, after all."

Castiel's words were not as reassuring as he had intended. Dean was pretty sure that Cas losing his strange infatuation would not be nearly as unlikely as the whole stars falling and void collapsing thing (though possibly even more cataclysmic to Dean), but it was the part about staying regardless that turned Dean's marrow to ice. The future that Zachariah had shown him could never come to pass now, but that did not mean the essential characters of the players had changed. "You would, wouldn't you?" Dean said, once again looking at Cas, and laying his left hand alongside his cheek. Yes, Cas would stay no matter what Dean became, and it would destroy him. Dean leaned forward and captured Castiel's mouth in a kiss, as his right hand swept behind him and pulled out one of his hidden knives. Castiel's mouth was rough against his, needy and unpracticed, as his tongue pushed against Dean's, tasting of rain and, huh, bacon. He couldn't help the shaking of his arms as he held his hands behind Cas's back and hoped Cas did not notice. He sucked Cas's bottom lip as he broke away, memorizing the feel of it, chapped and a little dry, and decided he had never had a better kiss in his life. He straightened, dropping the knife in his hand to press his palm against the bleeding marks on his arm.

"Goodbye, Cas," Dean whispered.

* * *

Dean was parked at a rest stop outside Ely, Nevada lying on the hood on the Impala and drinking a beer when Cas returned from wherever the sigil had sent him. Dean picked up his phone without looking when it rang, certain who it must be, spoke his location and hung up.

Cas and a cherub appeared in a flutter. "I have the right to make my own decisions, Dean," Castiel said. Dean didn't answer. "Tell him," Cas grunted, shoving the cupid at Dean.

"The arrows don't work on angels," the cupid monotoned. "The arrow shouldn't have affected Castiel like that."

"Because it didn't."

Dean shrugged. He heard the cupid stage-whisper, "Are you sure he doesn't need a hug?" He sat up warily at that and watched as Castiel hastily dismissed the other angel.

"Why'd you come back?"

"You don't know? Because you always let me." Castiel sat down next to him. Any other time Dean would be fascinated at how the hood didn't creak or move an inch. It always groaned a bit when he and Sam first settled on. "I can always find you. You keep letting me find you." Castiel took the bottle from Dean's hand, and took his own drink before handing the bottle back, a clearer statement of his intentions than anything he was saying. "I was not prepared for this past couple of years. Out of everyone in this universe, you're the only one who still makes sense to me. For a human, you're astonishingly reliable. You wear the same clothes you always have, listen to the same music, follow the same roads —"

Dean blinked. "You're saying I'm predictable? Cas, no one says that about me."

"No one else watched you come together atom by atom." Castiel squeezed Dean's shoulder, right over where the mark was under his clothes. "No one else watched you let go of the most important thing you ever had — your brother — to save a world that will never even remember his name." Dean decided it would be better not to mention Bobby right then.

"Yeah, well, I'm not usually such a giving guy, Cas." He swallowed. "I'm not a nice person."

"I'm not even a person," Castiel said. "If you don't want this, that's your choice, but I'm not going to give up if you're only doing this for my sake." He scooted closer to Dean until their thighs lay against each other. "There is nothing like this in heaven."

Dean took another drink. What else was there to think about? It wasn't as if anyone else would be able to offer him a guarantee of safety or security that he wouldn't be left behind either. No one could promise that. "Stanford," Dean said finally, mind made up. "I thought I'd visit. I know she's not there, but it's the kind of thing Sam would have done. I thought I'd let Jess know what happened to him." There's no better way for Dean to admit doesn't know what he's doing or where's he going, that he hasn't even managed to talk to Bobby yet, because he doesn't know how to talk to him anymore.

Castiel took his hand. "I have never been there before," he said.

* * *

"This is stupid," Dean said. "No offense," he added, in case she _was_ listening, after all. "I never saw much point in talking to rotting corpses." He waved away a bee. "He'd come if he could, though."

Cas hadn't been able to tell him if Jessica would hear, or maybe he'd lied. But no, Dean was pretty sure Cas still didn't understand comforting lies. "I'm a soldier," he'd said. "Others watch over the human souls, but I think sometimes they can."

"I know he wanted to come back someday." Dean laid the flowers on top of the headstone. "Sam'd tell you he's sorry. You're going to have to wait a long time for him. But he'd be up there now, if he had a choice." Dean snorted and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You're probably living through your first slumber party or your prom, or, or, ... maybe the first time you two — he would have made it nice. He's always been kind of a girl." Yeah, it would have been nice, a happy memory. Jessica's picture was fading from the constant sun exposure, but her smile was still pretty clear. Dean had liked her smile, and thought maybe he could ask something for himself, not just for Sam. "I just really need you to remember those years, because I don't — I can't remember that part. I wasn't there. So you have to. He should be remembered. All of him." Dean drew his jacket closer around him. The wind was picking up. "Sam Winchester saved the world, not Azazel's kid, not Lucifer's vessel. And he won't forget us." Dean recalled that, taunting the damned with their loved ones. "They won't let him." He shivered as the breeze traced across his face. Dean felt the sudden presence at his side, and Cas's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

The sun was in his eyes, bright and blinding, painful, but Cas was still there, still next to him. Dean reached over and caressed his thumb over Cas's knuckles. "Let's go," Dean said.

The road was before him, Cas was in the passenger seat, a perfect day for driving. Dean nudged the box of tapes with his foot. "You pick," he said.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for explicit sex, some blood.


End file.
